Oathbound
by Faelicia
Summary: Three years after Diablo's death, Eirena meets up with an acquaintance. Has anything changed since then? Romance is slow.
1. Motherhood

It had been three years since they'd defeated the Prime Evil. A lot of things had changed since then.

Looking back, Eirena wasn't sure she had made the best impression. Aloof and uncaring, she had sternly guided her comrades toward their ultimate goal, never faltering in her resolve. That was all gone now.

Following the end of their conquest, everyone had parted ways. Tyrael had gone on to become the mortal Aspect of Wisdom. Lyndon had gone back to his guild, reaping in the benefits of a hero. The nephalem continued in their philanthropy, traveling across the continent to rid the world of Diablo's last remnants. And Kormac, the poor soul, went off on his hopeless journey.

She, however, had nothing. Ithereal had told her to find her own path in life, and at first, she was lost. Without her sisters, the Prophet, and her quest, she was nothing. A shell of a person. Relic from the Mage Clan Era. Purposeless. With no worldly attachments or personal connections, she considered drifting into the realm of eternal sleep.

Yet, as she wandered the world, Eirena had found another calling, one that bound her soul to the mortal world.

She had become a mother.

At first, it started with a single child. She had stumbled upon the thing just outside of her in during a visit to Caldeum. Employed at the time as a mercenary, she had gone outside to enjoy the view, only to see something that conjured emotions she thought were long dead. The boy, no older than ten, had been rummaging through the refuse, hoping for scraps to ease the ache of an empty stomach. Finding no food, he pulled out an old and very dirty rag, and began to consume it.

Eirena was devastated when she found that this child was but one of the many who had lost their families to the chaos of Diablo's insurrection. She took him in, and in time, many others like him. With her meager savings, she bought a home, and attended to their needs. The place quickly became known as orphanage. During the day, she sold and enchanted magical items, returning at night to her home, where the older children cared for the younger.

It was a thankless task, and she was running out of room. Lately, it seemed that she was finding more children who had been abandoned, rather than orphaned. Nevertheless, the roads had finally been repaired, having been destroyed during the endless battles, and so business was picking up.

Eirena had been saving up, and in a few months, she would be able to acquire a larger building. Her current situation could barely accommodate the 32 rascals. She considered hiring help, but banished the though immediately. It simply was not affordable. Asheara and her crew often came to visit, and that was more than enough.

Eirena whistled, smiling as she closed her stand. Today's earnings were more than expected, and so she decided to treat herself to a meal at her favorite inn before heading back. The inn itself was not particularly fancy, known neither for its service nor its food. Despite that, Eirena loved their mincemeat pies. The pies had been her first meal upon arriving in Caldeum, and it had made a lasting impression.

She seated herself at a small table in the furthest corner, and awaited her food. It was not unusual for vagrants to visit this place. Many of them would stop and attempt to charm her with their flattery, and words of deceit. This bothered her much so that she eventually opted to sit in the furthest, darkest corner, where they could not easily trouble, much less see her.

As her meal arrived, a large armored figure bustled through the door, creating quite a commotion. It was strange, for she couldn't recall the last time she had seen that type of armor.

Ever since the demise of the Prime Evil, adventurers and mercenaries had become rare, especially in Caldeum, where most of the visitors were merchants. The last time she had seen such armor was three years back. Not even the guards wore something so archaic. The antiquated sets were so bulky and troublesome, and most fighters opted for the newer garments that offered more flexibility without announcing one's location with every step.

Much to Eirena's annoyance, the armored being chose to sit in close proximity to her. She hastily completed her meal, and stood to leave, just as the armored person removed their helmet.

"One ale and three mousemeat pies, please."

Eirena stopped.

That voice, that request, she had heard it somewhere before. There weren't many men she had met during her travels who were gullible enough to believe Lyndon's lies. In fact, she had been there when they Scoundrel had convinced the poor fool that mincemeat was in fact, made of mice, and the that the proper name was actually "mousemeat." The stranger sat facing away from her, but she was almost positive of their identity. Walking briskly to the table, Eirena turned and stood before the figure. She knew it.

"Hello Kormac."

She seated herself adjacent to her acquaintance. The corners of her eyes turned up, as she watched him choke on his ale.

"How have you been?"


	2. Reunion

Eirena had stayed far too long speaking with her old companion. It was dawn by the time she returned home, and she returned only to be scolded by her eldest.

"You're an adult!" he reprimanded her, "Be more responsible!"

Sheepishly, she patted his head, told him he was a good child, and rested her eyes.

The sun rose way too fast, and soon she too rose for a new day. But instead of opening her stand as usual, Eirena headed for the inn. Once there, she entered, and was surprised to see Kormac waiting patiently at a table. He always did seem to be the morning type, and the fact that he was bordering on little to no sleep didn't seem to faze the man.

"Good morning," she greeted, taking a seat adjacent to him.

They had decided to meet again, to further discuss his situation. Not much had changed, for him, at least. From what Eirena could tell Kormac had spent the first two years searching for the remainder of the lost "tomes." Find them, he did, but there was one problem. What he found were not tomes at all. Instead, all were ancient manuals for creating angelic weapons. These weapons, however, were not bound to angelic beings. Anyone, even demons, could wield these weapons.

Troubled, Kormac had spent the remaining time trying to locate the Templar's Order so as to question the Inquisitors, only to find that the Order had disappeared. It was as if they'd never existed. The place in which they'd convened, the training grounds, even the surrounding town was not there, replaced with nothing but forest. The Templar had tried everything. He asked angels and demons alike, but none knew of what had become of the order. Villagers, wise people, even the former followers of Magda knew nothing. Exasperated, he decided to start from the beginning, from Tristram to Caldeum, Caldeum to Bastion's Keep. Hopefully he could find some clues. The more they conversed, the more Eirena began to realize that he was in the same place she had been three years ago. He was lost. Even before he finished recounting his tale, Eirena had made up her mind. She was going to help him.

Snapping back to the present, she realized that Kormac had asked her a question. Naturally, he expected a response.

"Uhm… Yes?"

Kormac stared blankly. "I asked you how many children are currently in your care."

"Sorry, I had other things on my mind," Eirena laughed nervously, "I've 32 at the moment, with more every month." She shook her head, sighing. "People are more willing to surrender their wards than they are to adopt."

Turning to glance at her companion, Eirena questioned him in return. "So what are you to do now?"

His response was half-hearted at best. Out of options, he had returned to Caldeum to lend his skills as a fighter, in the hopes that something he encountered would point him in the right direction. It pained Eirena to hold his gaze, for his eyes spoke of something with which she was all too familiar. They were the eyes of one who had lost all hope. This was understandable, of course. Eirena and Kormac had a lot in common in that regard. She could only fathom if the same had happened to her, if the Prophet had turned out to be a demon, and if she had been lied to and used as a puppet as Kormac had been.

A small clap rung through the air as Eirena clasped her hands together, ignorant of the stares she'd drawn from the surrounding travelers. "You could work with Asheara!" she articulated. "Maybe the Iron Wolves will know something."

"I suppose," Kormac conceded.

That was that. They convened, Eirena leaving to arrange a meeting between the Captain of the Guard, Asheara, and the Templar, the following day. It wasn't difficult. All she had to do was locate one of Asheara's men, and the message would be brought to the other's ears. This was a luxury afforded only by Eirena, for the Enchantress had struck up an unusual friendship with the other woman; in some ways, Asheara reminded her of one of her sisters, loyal and astute, unwavering in her determination. She was the type of person who could judge a man by his looks, and nobody dared to cross her.

If Kehjistan would have allowed a woman and a stranger to become Empress, Eirena was sure Asheara would make quick work of the nation. Alas, following the slaying of Belial, it became clear that the heroes had managed to rid the child of his possession, leaving the emperor very much alive. This was probably a blessing in disguise, for Hakan II had no heirs, and without an emperor, it was likely that the entire nation would have imploded. Instead, Asheara partnered with the child in order to guide him in the restoration of Caldeum. She became one of his most trusted advisors and Captain of the Guard, with provisional control over most of the city. This, she would relinquish when the emperor was of age, but until then, Hakan II was but a figure head, for it was Asheara who controlled the dealings of the capital.

That woman would know what to do with him. Of all the people Eirena knew, Asheara was probably the most capable. If anyone could help him, she could. The Templar had helped her once, and now it was time to return the favor.

Kormac woke early the next morning to complete his routine: a swift run, some training exercises, and then meditation. He needed to steel his resolve for whatever the day had in store. Arriving two hours early, Kormac prepared himself.

Caldeum was not quite like he'd remembered. Instead of the turmoil filled, chaotic city he had expected, Caldeum was now a bustling epicenter of trade. A lot had changed, and his old expectations had been quickly squashed. The newly painted walls, the vibrant stalls, and the exuberant atmosphere had been absent the last time when Belial gripped the city in fear and panic. Eirena had told him that under Asheara's careful guidance, the city had been returned to its former glory.

He loitered around the bazaar when it became clear he was beyond punctual. It wouldn't be the first time he was the first to arrive, for Kormac was always the first to wake and the last to sleep. Once, during their journey to slay the Prime Evil, he had rallied the group for an early morning jog, only to be met with the collective objections of the entire party. Apparently, the wee hours before cock-crow were too early to be considered morning.

The shopkeepers were filing into the bazaar now, many of them wishing for sleep, for they walked like the undead. He spotted one particular individual, who seemed exceptionally drowsy; it took her almost 30 tries to unlatch her padlock in before entering the stall. Chuckling to himself, Kormac slowly approached the shop.

"Ahoy, Eirena!" he voiced, startling the Enchantress enough for her to drop the trinket she'd been holding; it fell to the floor with a muffled clink.

"Kormac! Aren't you supposed to be meeting with Asheara?" She bent to retrieve her charm, before continuing, "I thought I told you to meet her two hours after daybreak?"

"A Templar is always early," he preached, "the best choices are always made by those who are alert and ready. Why, one time, while we were training back at the Order I—"

It was clear that Eirena was no longer listening. She'd had enough of his ramblings during their journey, and she was far too lethargic to put up with it now. Silencing him with a soft finger on his lips, she interjected, "Have you eaten Kormac?"

"Why, no," the man stammered, clearly flustered by her touch, "I thought to eat after the meeting, I mean I thought it best to— "

"It's okay if you forgot, Templar. No need to lie to me. There's a small bakery in that corner; they've a wonderful apple turnover. I suggest you try it." Eirena pointed in the direction of the bakery, dismissing the man. Raising both hands to her head, she rubbed her temples as she watched the Templar enter the shop. He was a morning idiot of the most despicable kind.

After consuming an apple turnover, as per Eirena's suggestion, Kormac floundered around the marketplace once more. The pastry had been exquisite, crispy on the outside, with a flavor just tart enough to appeal to his tastes. He had almost brought one back for her, if not for the annoyance in her voice. Even he could tell when his presence was not wanted. Kormac made a note not to approach the Enchantress so early again. He had seen what she could do on the battlefield, and he didn't quite fancy being a chicken.

"Early for your first day on the job, eh?" came a voice from behind him, jarring his thoughts. Standing near the bazaar's main fountain was the captain herself. "Hullo Kormac, been a while." Asheara curtly greeted him with a small wave.

Kormac responded with a subtle nod. "Pleasure to see you again. Doing well I presume?"

"Fantastic, thanks for asking." Asheara paused thoughtfully for a moment, placing a hand to her chin as she cocked her hips. "You okay with asset protection?"

Kormac tilted his head, his confusion evident to the woman beside him by the way she guffawed.

"That, my dear boy, means body guarding. You'll be guarding our most important caravans."

"So…" Kormac started slowly, "does this mean I'm hired?"

Another peal of laughter from the woman. "Did you think me so pompous that I wouldn't accept help from the hero of our city?" She slapped him heartily in the shoulder. "Plus," she noted, "I'm sure you'll be a hit with the ladies! Report in front of the palace at noon tomorrow." She winked, and with that, Asheara was off before Kormac could exclaim he'd sworn off pleasures of the flesh. Disgruntled, rubbed his shoulder gingerly. For a woman, she sure could pack a punch.

The sun sat heavily in the midday sky, causing a severe drop in productivity as the inhabitants of Caldeum sweltered under its wrath. Wiping the sweat from her eyes, Eirena glanced at the shopkeepers around her. Some had the foresight to procure one of those hand spun wind-making machines, the latest technology to hit the market, but most, like herself, were left to bake evenly in the summer sun. Distracting herself by sorting her goods, part of Eirena wished she'd taken the nephalem's offer to teach her some arcane magic. These would be useful now, especially the technique that summoned the frost. Alas, she had been too preoccupied at the time, and so she retained nothing but her own spells.

As an Enchantress, Eirena excelled in magic that involved perception. Charms to create lovers out of acquaintances, rivals out of friends, magic of those sorts. Its effects were not permanent, nor were the feelings genuine, but she had no business prying into the lives of her customers. Her only responsibility was to notify them of the short term effects as well as any potential side effects. After that, whatever they did with her goods was of no concern to her.

Judging by the sun dials, only an hour had passed since she started arranging her charms. A bead of sweat crawled across her cheek as she flicked it away with her hand. Eirena groaned and began braiding some rope to prepare more trinkets. It was going to be a long day.

Finally, it was time to close. Stifling a yawn, she walked briskly to the inn where she last met Kormac. They were meeting once more to discuss the outcome of his meeting with Asheara. Eirena wrinkled her nose as she entered. No matter how many times she dined here, the smell was something she could never be used to. Years of wanderers bustling in and out of the tiny place had left it permanently smelling of musk, grime, and the distinct smell of man.

Stepping into the dark, Eirena searched the tables as she allowed her eyes to adjust. Kormac was sitting at the same table, and he'd noticed her, raising a hand to beckon her to him. Eirena smiled; he'd already had the perception to order her a mincemeat pie. As she navigated through the myriad of tables, someone pinched her rump, causing the enchantress to stiffen. Kormac, having seen the act, stood abruptly.

Rushing to his side, Eirena placed a hand on his chest, the other on his arm, which was already poised to draw weapon. "It's fine, Templar. I can defend myself. We'd best not create a ruckus." The last thing they needed was an unnecessary fight.

Coaxing him to sit, Eirena quickly changed the subject. "So how did your meeting with Asheara go?"

It seemed to work, for Kormac returned to his seat, before huffing. "I have been hired to protect caravans." He paused, acutely aware of Eirena's lingering hand on his arm. "I'm to report in front of the Palace at noon."

"That's great!" Much to Kormac's disdain, she removed her hand, waving down a barmaid before declaring, "They've a wonderful almond pudding here. You should try it, I'll pay."

Kormac begrudgingly accepted, fighting the urge to go into a tirade on the reasons why a man should always pay. Eirena seemed to be in a pleasant mood, and he didn't want to ruin it. He smiled to himself. She was different from before, but in a good way. Perhaps his stay in Caldeum would be worthwhile.


	3. Hexed

Eirena gripped the edge of her stall as a chill ran through her body. She swallowed hard, attempting to quell the storm in her stomach as it churned dangerously. Thinking back, she wondered where she could become ill. In the past month, she had scarcely deviated from her usual route, although the constant stream of new visitors to the city had brought occasional "presents" with them, in the form of unwanted ailments. Sleep had been eluding her as of late as well; one particular nightmare had been plaguing her dreams.

"Lysa!" she would scream futilely, waking to find her voice hoarse, her throat raw, and her children crowded by her side, brushing the tears from their caretaker's face, worry apparent by the way they huddled near her side.

In hindsight, the culmination of these two factors, sleep deprivation and continued exposure to outsiders, was probably what had caused Eirena to slip under the weather. When it was time to close, Eirena was silently grateful. Today was the one day of the week where the children prepared dinner. She trudged home, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders to ward off the sudden cold.

The sun had not yet set, lingering lazily in the sky, but that made no difference. It was six months past summer, and although Caldeum was known for its sunny atmosphere as a tropical paradise, it too experienced winter, in the form of dreadful gusts and early sunset. Like many deserts oases, Caldeum was frigid at night, especially in the dead of winter, which was one reason why Eirena had opted not to open during the night market. She pitied the fools who did, as they often lost limbs to winter's wrath

"Welcome back!"

A horde of small, grubby hands greeted her at the gate, relieving her of whatever burdens she'd been carrying. The youngest children never failed to do so, often lifting her spirits as they vied for her attention. Miriel, the youngest, at six years old, dashed up to her with a small, crumpled ball in hand.

"I made this for you!"

"That's wonderful!" Eirena exclaimed, taking the ball and feigning liveliness, "Have you all been behaving?"

"Miriel made a mess today, and Emm broke one of your favorite pots," announced a new voice. Eirena turned to see the glum face of Uzziel, her eldest child. Behind him followed Zadok, the second eldest. At 13 and 12, the two were in charge of entertaining the others and were mature beyond their age. If she had the luxury to do so, Eirena would have liked to have given them a childhood, but her current situation would not allow for that, and so the burden fell onto the boys.

Eirena smiled, ignoring her growing headache, and ruffled the hair of both boys. "What's for dinner?"

"Nothing." Uzziel said, pointedly. "We're out of meat."

Sighing, Eirena rummaged through her pockets, pulling out a ten gold coin, which she placed the coin in Uzziel's expectant palm. "Be back before sunset, understand?"

"Yes, Mother!" they nearly shouted, skipping happily out the door. It wasn't often that they got to go to the markets, so to do so was a special treat.

Eirena pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping to ease the pounding in her head. It didn't help. Looking around, she surveyed the day's damage. Two broken pots, one trampled garden plant, and it looked as if a tornado had decimated her room. All in all, not so bad. Locating her favorite blanket, Eirena announced to nobody in particular, "I'm taking a nap. Nobody bother me for at least half an hour!" and plopped down on her cot, slamming her eyes shut for the first real sleep she'd had in weeks.

"Mom! Mom!" came a shriek, "There's a weird man outside! He's scary!" Eirena sprang to life, grabbing her wand, stumbling as blood rushed to her head causing a bout of light headedness. Running to the front of her home, Eirena readied her wand, prepared to ward off an attacker, as she flung the door open with the might of a giantess, pointing her weapon menacingly in the face of her foe.

"Hi." Kormac stated, sheepishly. "Perhaps I should have told I was visiting." He raised a gloved hand to scratch his head. "Is right now inopportune?"

Eirena's bottom lip quivered as she bit back a scowl. Several seconds passed before two youthful faces popped out from behind the Templar.

"We found him in the marketplace and brought him home! He's your friend, right?"

Kormac extended his arm, his hand grasping a large burlap sack, which he held as if he were presenting a peace offering of some sort. Eirena stared at the bag, startled when it began wriggling viciously, and then it—IT CLUCKED?!

Snatching the sack from Kormac, she made to open it.

"No wait—" Kormac grabbed for the back, causing Eirena to pull away instinctively. In the process she dropped the thing allowing the bag fall open on the floor, unleashing a whirlwind of feathers and the behemoth that was a thoroughly enraged chicken into her home.

Children screamed out of fear and glee, running about as the poultry flapped haphazardly around. With the grace and speed of a sloth, Eirena lolled her head over to survey the damage. There were feathers absolutely everywhere, and she had just cleaned that room.

"Chicken on the loose!"

"AHHHH!"

"It's in the laundry!"

Training her eyes on the target, Eirena furrowed her eyebrows in concentration, uttering a single phrase. A bolt of energy shot from her wand, striking the chicken with a brilliant flash and a small explosion as the bird fell lifeless to the floor. The air became heavy with the smell of burnt feathers. A mix of smoke and arcane magic emanated from the charred corpse as everyone stopped, silently surveying the corpse of the poor poultry. So consumed were they in observing the smoldering thing that hardly any noticed when Eirena staggered, haplessly extending her arms as she found herself falling into a cold embrace with the floor, her consciousness fading.

The only thing that saved her the pleasure of a broken nose and a veritable concussion was Kormac's quick reaction; he just managed to grab her arm before she met with the ground, so that she fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. All the eyes turned to the only other adult present, as Kormac steeled himself for the impending storm. Then the screaming began.

A pleasant aroma wafted throughout the home, creeping into Eirena's nostrils. She stirred, drifting slowly into a state of pseudo-consciousness. Her head was throbbing, and her arm felt as if someone had tried to wrench it out of its socket. Without opening her eyes, Eirena gently massaged a spot on her arm where an inevitable bruise would sprout.

Turning to her side, Eirena grabbed blindly for the blanket, only to find none. Strange, she remembered going to sleep with a blanket just before the boys left to shop. Had they gotten back already? Wait, they did come back but—realization slapped Eirena in the face. She snapped her eyes open and sat up abruptly, only to slam her forehead against another. Grasping desperately at her head, Eirena gasped as her world exploded into flashes of light; she felt herself slipping into a faint. Gritting her teeth, Eirena willed herself to stay alert, and glanced up through squinted eyes to see an oaf standing dumbly over her, rubbing his head absently.

Their eyes met, and for a while, neither said anything, until Kormac finally enunciated, "Are you alright?"

"Alright is hardly the word for it!" Eirena hissed, no longer having the willpower to keep herself from going off on the Templar, "You come into my home and unleash a crazed poultry, then you try to knock me out again once I've finally come to. What are you doing here and what do you want?"

"Well, actually, you were the one who released the chicken, I merely handed you the bag." Kormac fumbled, realizing his error too late.

"I don't care!" Eirena snapped, her temper flaring. "You think you can come over to someone's home unannounced after breaking contact for half a year and expect them to accommodate you? GET OUT!"

Her yelling had, by now, attracted several of her wards, who crowded protectively around the man, much to her annoyance.

"Mom it's not his fault," Zadok pleaded, "we—he cleaned everything up, and look he's even making dinner!"

It was true. In her rage, Eirena had failed to notice that her home was, for once, clean, and that Kormac had donned her favorite pink and purple laced apron. Feeling her anger subside into weariness, Eirena relented, throwing up both hands.

"Fine. Wake me when dinner's prepared."

With that, Eirena flounced back down on whatever she happened to have been laying on—it was probably her cot, but she didn't know nor did she care—and shut her eyes. Kormac stood observing the sorceress just long enough to hear the sizzling sounds of a pot over-boiled.

"No!"

Twenty minutes later, Kormac was still stirring the stew. It had been a long time since he'd been back to the city. Half a year to be exact. All but a single week was spent escorting caravans. Asheara wasn't exactly the type to give a man a break.

Lifting the ladle, to his lips, Kormac tested the stew before adding some pepper he'd found in the cupboards while looking around. Eirena's kitchen was certainly an improvement to the campfires to which he was accustomed, and he very much enjoyed the fact that he could stand before the pot without the risk of burning his legs. He did not, however, enjoy the sheer quantity of food required to feed all the mouths. In fact, the cauldron he was using to cook stew was larger than some he'd seen the cooks in the mess hall of the Order use to feed their men. To feed the mouths of 32 children and two adults, one bird was not nearly enough. He'd had to run out to obtain three more, in addition to the one Eirena had obliterated in an artful display of deadly magic. It was still good to eat, he hoped. They would find out soon enough.

"Ahem," a voice came from behind him, one he recognized as Uzziel's. "Sir Kormac?"

Kormac turned to find the lad teetering nervously on his toes, his arms behind his back, so different from the exuberant youngster Kormac had met in the bazaar, one who, along with his brother, had basically dragged the Templar to their home. If not for them, Kormac would have alerted Eirena of his return, awaiting her invitation instead of barging into her home in an impromptu visit. Alas, there was no point in dwelling on what already had been done.

"Yes Uzziel?"

Kormac could see the boy wringing his hands behind his back as he stammered, "You're a knight right? You fight for the good guys?"

Smiling, Kormac set his ladle aside and patted the boy on the shoulder. The adolescent stiffened at first but then became visibly more relaxed.

"I'm not a knight, so you do not have to address me as 'sir." Just Kormac is fine. I'm of the Templar's Order, and my divine duty is to bring the light to humanity while ridding the world of its evils."

The pot began to bubble dangerously, prompting Kormac to resume stirring.

"So, you know how to fight!" Uzziel's eyes were glued to the small dagger Kormac kept on his hip at all times.

"Of course," Kormac chortled, "what of it?"

"Then!" The boy exclaimed, "Then you can teach me to fight!"

"Me too!" another voice piped, as Zadok emerged into the kitchen from the task of entertaining his other siblings. "I want to learn to fight too!"

Kormac crossed his arm, flicking hot bits of stew indiscriminately when he forgot to release the ladle. "Now why would I do that?" he interrogated, "What reason do you two have for wishing to learn the art of combat? Man a man have perished under my command."

Undeterred, the boys proclaimed in unison, "We want to protect everyone!" Their collective voices were loud enough to cause Eirena to shift in the next room where she rested.

"We want to protect our family," Uzziel explained, "and Mother. She does so much for us already, and—"

"And we want to help our mom!" Zadok interjected, "If we can fight, we can help her make money! We'll become strong and we won't have to rely on her anymore!"

Turning back to the stove, Kormac removed the pot and put out the flame. He allowed the boys to watch him expectantly as he calmly removed Eirena's apron and hung it back on the rack where he had found it. Placing both hands on his hips, he moved to loom imposingly over the pair.

"Now listen here. Eirena, your Mother, works very hard to support you all so you may live a better life. I can teach you to fight if you wish to protect her and your brethren, but," Kormac cut off the smiles that grew on their faces, "I will not teach you to sell your swords. It is far too dangerous and until you become of age, I'll not hear of you speak of relying on anyone other than her. She takes pride in caring for you and I will not teach you to put yourself in harm's way."

"What's going on?" Eirena cut off Kormac's tirade, standing bleary-eyed in the middle of the doorway. "Who's being harmed?"

"Mister Kormac is going to teach us to fight!" Zadok blurted, running off before Kormac had time to explain.

Uzziel followed suit, brushing past Eirena to join the others.

"They wish to protect you and raise funds. I believe they wish not to be a burden, but for children as young as they are, it's far too dangerous, and I was trying to explain to them that while I will teach them to fight, they should find other ways to acquire money. For instance, I know Haedrig is looking for a new apprentice, since the last one died about three years ago," Kormac rambled, while Eirena approached the bubbling pot to taste its contents, clearly oblivious to his longwinded statements.

"It's good!" she declared. Surprisingly, his attempt at stew was delicious, better than her own, even. "Is all of your cooking like this?"

"Well, I suppose. I have been told my pot pies could make demons cry."

"Why didn't you cook more often when we were journeying then?"

Kormac hesitated, staring at his hands before replying.

"You were…so insistent on cooking for us, and I saw the way you took special care to prepare our meals, especially when Lyndon was around, so I just… I didn't—" Kormac stopped and didn't continue, his gaze concentrated on his knuckles, now white as he gripped his hands together tightly.

Eirena blushed furiously, protesting, "I did not! I only—"

"I saw the way you looked at him, the way your voice became higher, your footsteps lighter, the way you laughed more easily in his presence, Eirena." His chestnut eyes now held hers, fierce with rivalry and accusation. "I'm not blind, Eirena. You know of my feelings for you."

Eirena stepped back, finding her back against the wall. The last thing she wanted to do now was to get into a verbal argument with the Templar, especially in her current frame of mind, but it seemed she was cornered.

"Is that why you're here?" Eirena huffed, "have you come to woo me? I'm not sure you're aware, Kormac, but I'm far too busy to entertain you and your delusions of romance!"

"Of course not! I just though you would like to hear the news!" Kormac was hollering now, in a way that was frightening, even to Eirena. She had never seen him this upset before. "How thoughtless of me to think that you might like to hear some news about the Prophet or the fact that the Black Soul Stone is missing! Pardon my intrusion!"

Red-faced with fury, Kormac aimed for the door, pushing brusquely past a stunned Eirena, stopping only to grab the sword and armor he had mindfully checked at the door. As he reached to re-equip his weapon, the Enchantress moved hastily to block his path, placing two hands upon his hand as it met the pommel.

"I'm sorry." Eirena apologized softly. She wrapped her fingers around his to pry them free of the sword in a way that, under different circumstances, could have been construed as holding hands. "I-I don't know what came over me. My mind is all muddled, and the house has been a mess. One of my sisters, Lysa has been calling to me in my dreams, I can barely support the children, and I have no idea what I'm doing anymore."

She leaned against the wall, heaving. "I think… I think I'm going to be sick." Doubling over, Eirena promptly retched all over Kormac's equipment, much to his horror.


	4. Apocalypse

The archangel Malthael had turned.

Following the wake of Diablo's sealing, Heaven had confiscated the Black Soulstone, keeping the object safe in its possession. Kept safe by the the High Heavens and protected by the Angiris Coucil, the stone was a displayed as a sign that angels had triumphed over the demons.

Nonetheless, Tyrael had surmised, correctly, that the likes of Heaven could not be trusted with the key which bound the fate of all demons. Many in Heaven were not opposed to the idea of sealing all demons in this Black Soulstone, effectively ending the eternal conflict. The stone itself had begun to corrode those close to it, infecting the citizens of the High Heavens with thoughts of distrust, sowing seeds of turmoil. One of those affected was Malthael.

In a brazen act of opposition, Tyrael, in secret, created the new found Horadrim and commissioned the order to do the impossible: steal the Black Soulstone. Through their many trials and tribulations, the Horadrim were victorious, stealing away that which had begun to unravel the High Heavens. Yet not all was well. None knew of the true capabilities of the Black Soulstone, or dared to test it. Could the object be broken without unleashing its terrors once more into the world? Unlike the previous stones, this one was man made, and any attempt to destroy it could very well backfire.

And so, Tyrael and the Horadrim resolved to seal it away in an undisclosed location. However, in the midst of the sealing, the new Angel of Death had appeared, destroying the newly founded Horadrim and incapacitating the Aspect of Wisdom, Tyrael. The only survivors were Lorath Nahr, a member of the new Horadrim, and Tyrael himself.

Now the nation of Westmarch was in turmoil, besieged by Malthael and his legion of Death Maidens as the former archangel sought to end the eternal conflict by absorbing the life force of all remaining demons. In the process, humanity would perish, for humans were the offspring of the nephalem, and thus, created out of the union between angels and demons; the sealing of the demons would tear the souls of humans in two, and the separation of the soul from the body would mean death for all. His plan was not yet complete, but every second spent lingering meant Malthael was closer to accomplishing his goal. The Angel of Death needed to be stopped.

Eirena clutched her pillow tightly, her face pale as she struggled to come to terms with the information Kormac had just conveyed. She was sitting cross-legged on her cot, hugging her favorite pillow. Opposite of her sat the Templar in a low stool, his fingers interlocked, elbows on his knees as he stared intently at the ground.

"I know you are unwell, but I was hoping," Kormac began to mumble. "I was hoping you would consider traveling to Westmarch with me."

Eirena almost chuckled at the timing. Not even three candle marks ago she had soiled his armor with the symptoms of being "unwell," and now he was asking her to accompany him on a quest to defeat Malthael? The request was laughable.

Uncrossing her legs, Eirena draped them over the side of the bed and hoisted herself to stand. Approaching the door to her room, she peeked outside, just once, before closing it with a gentle click. In this small home, the children were divided into rooms by ages, those below the ages of ten in one, and those older in the other, with the solitary room occupied by the matron of the household. She'd put the last of them to sleep near an hour ago, but still, Eirena was glad to have the room to herself, as it afforded her some privacy.

"About your request." Eirena turned toward her dresser and opened the drawers, casually drawing out a nightgown. "I'm afraid I cannot accompany you."

"Why not?" Kormac contested, hastily averting his eyes from the Enchantress when she began undressing, her back turned to him.

"I've a family now Kormac, I cannot simply abandon them."

"I—but you—" Kormac was at a loss for words, partly out of disbelief that this was the same woman who he had journeyed with just three years prior, the one who had been so zealous in her pursuit of justice, and partly because his mind was flooding the Templar with other thoughts of the naked sorceress in front of him. It certainly wasn't the first time she had done this; it had been common during their quest to slay Diablo, and the fact that she could change comfortably in front him meant she trusted him, he thought. Still, it was terribly distracting, and he was trying to discuss events of relative importance! He sighed audibly as if the sigh would dispel those unnecessary thoughts with the air he expelled.

Eirena turned to speak before Kormac had time to compose himself, oblivious to the way he quickly turned away, twisting his body so that it faced the door instead of at her. She lifted her arms and gracefully slipped into the loose garment. "I understand your request Kormac, but I cannot accompany you and the nephalem and… Lyndon."

Kormac noticed the way Eirena paused slightly before pronouncing the name of their other traveling companion in the same way he noticed how her nightgown failed to cover the two olive-sized protrusions on the woman's bosom, pert from the cold of winter. He tried to form an argument with the woman, convince her that her presence would be needed to save humanity once more, but the thoughts that came to him were nothing of the sort. For a few minutes, Kormac battled in his mind, first with anger, then frustration, and finally acceptance. None of this showed on his face, as the Templar had stoned his expression, for once.

In the midst of this, Eirena had returned to her bed, preparing herself for the tirade she knew she had invoked, and for which the Templar was notorious. His expression was unreadable as he sat unmoving, and Eirena could only fathom what raced in the mind of her companion. Reaching out a hand, she attempted to place a hand on the shoulder of the man, startled when he moved away fluidly.

"I understand," Kormac said suddenly, his voice emotionless. It was useless to argue with Eirena and every second he spent in this room was another second spent in temptation. If she did not wish to come, he would bother her no more.

"I'll see you out then." Eirena rose to open the door as Kormac offered the barest of nods, gathering his equipment in a single motion.

"Thank you."

Then he was gone. Walking the straight path to Westmarch, where his unwavering convictions led him. Eirena had said nothing, just watched as Kormac's retreating form disappeared into the thin midnight air. She shivered as the wind swirled around her, chilling her skin with its icy embrace. Eventually she shut the door, long after his figure had disappeared from view, thankful the children still asleep. The most rambunctious of them had tuckered out long before she and Kormac had begun their private discussion.

A feeling of agony began to gnaw at her, one that only grew the more she thought about the news Kormac had just relayed, as well as his unreasonable request. The longer she pondered, the more the thoughts began to plague her.

Surely the events in Westmarch were no coincidence; they must be connected with the timing of her nightmares. Could it be they were related?

Eirena returned to her room in an attempt to collect herself. Perhaps the Prophet was not who she thought he was. Could the Prophet be not Ithereal, but Malthael? Eirena tried to stop her mind from following that line of thinking, but found herself unable to do so. Lysa, was Lysa alive? Was that why she had heard the voices? Maybe Malthael was the Prophet and had resurrected her sisters, who were working with him?

It had to be some sort of scheme. Perhaps, if the Prophet was Malthael after all, he had used the Sisterhood in order to seal away Diablo and then collect the Black Soulstone to end the eternal conflict. If so, then she would have been lied to, coerced into aiding in the fall of humanity.

Perhaps she too was a Death Maiden. There was nothing to say that she was human. After all, not many had the power to summon demons, much less survive a 1500 year slumber. Eirena dropped to floor, distraught at her own conclusions, as fear slowly overcame the small curled mass that was the Enchantress.

Would she lose herself, her will, and become a slave under Malthael's power? What of the children? Even if Malthael were not the Prophet, she could hardly leave them behind to rejoin the nephalem. They were her new family.

Panic enveloped the sorceress, who rocked frantically, sniveling with indecision. In her worry, tears had begun to fall, dampening the ground beneath her head. Hours, she spent groveling, until finally, her mind spent, Eirena fell into an uneasy rest.

_Thump thump thump thump_.

Someone was knocking on the door. Groggily, Eirena raised her head, cringing when her neck protested, cramping. She had fallen asleep in an awkward position, and now it was difficult for her to rise. Sunlight peeked over the windows and into her abode. It appeared to be midday.

_Thump thump thump thump._

"Mother! Asheara's here! She says she'll break down the door if you don't come out right—"

The door came crashing in; Eirena instinctively rolled aside, just dodging what would have been a very painful, splinter filled impact.

"Now." Uzziel stood in the hallway, just behind the Captain of the Iron Wolves, who entered the room, stepping over the remains of Eirena's bedroom door with relative ease.

The Enchantress blinked. "Asheara, why? What are you doing here?"

"The better question," Asheara replied cordially, helping her friend to her feet, "is why are _you_ still here?"

"What do you mean? I live here."

Asheara straightened her back, stretching her arms as she sauntered about the room, picking up random articles here and there, throwing them atop Eirena's bed until it was strewn with random articles of clothing and various tomes.

"Don't be silly Eirena, you know what I mean. Why haven't you begun packing?"

Eirena crossed her arms. "Just where am I going, and why have you barged into my home, breaking down my door?" She was in no mood for riddles.

Uzziel quickly scampered off, not wanting to be caught in an argument between adults, instead tasking himself with the making of lunch for himself and his siblings.

Asheara stopped her expression suddenly grim, her face serious. "You mean you don't know?"

"About?"

"Malthael and the Black Soulstone."

"I do," Eirena admitted.

"Then why aren't you on your way to Westmarch?" Asheara sputtered, exasperated. "You should be aiding the nephalem right now!"

"I can't Asheara, I'm not—it's not the same as old times! I can't just leave the children!" Eirena braced herself when the captain's eyes bulged, expecting the other woman to lash out at her.

For a moment, it seemed as if Asheara would strike the Enchantress, as she raised a hand, but instead of a slap, the captain clenched her firsts and brought them back towards her body, slamming it into her own chest. "Then leave them to me!" the Asheara asserted. "All of humanity will be lost, and you're worry about who will take care of the little twits? Get your priorities straight! If Malthael prevails, we will all die!"

The weight of Asheara's words hung heavily in the air. For a few moments, neither woman moved. Eirena was the first to do so, moving to collect the items Asheara had scattered about her bed, arranging them into neat piles. From her drawers, she pulled out a small well-worn pack and began to place the items within the bag.

"You're right. Take care of them for me. I'm entrusting them to you." Eirena winced when Asheara slapped her heartily on the back.

"That's my girl."

Farewells were short and relatively tearless, except for the departee herself, who shed many a tear as she bid her children goodbye, promising to return victorious. There was no guarantee she would return at all, but she tried not to think of that as she bid them goodbye. Only Uzziel and Zadok realized this, clinging to her longer than the rest.

"Beat them real good!" Zadok shouted, as Eirena started down the path. "And come back to us! You promised!" And with that, she was gone.

Somewhere along the road, Kormac was trudging down the path he'd taken many times before. How many years had it been since he'd returned here? He didn't know. In his conquests, he had fell many a foul beast in the town, but was unaware its place as his home. The Order had made sure he would never remember it as such. Now, he remembered, but it wasn't a happy reunion. Surely Malthael's forces had laid waste to the countryside. It would have been nice to see his mother's face one last time.

He looked around, carefully surveying the surroundings. He had gotten quite far in two days; normally it would have taken him four days to reach this place, but the absence of other travelers and the anticipation of confrontation had hastened his journey. The way the landscape had changed from grassy hillsides to barren plains told him he was nearing his destination. Even out here, the desecration of Westmarch could be seen in the way the trees wilted, their heads sorrowful as they dropped their leaves to the earth.

Silence, save for the sound of his own footsteps and the rustling of his pack, enveloped him as he continued toward his destination, the lack of life evident by the way his own heartbeat pounded in his ears. In a way, the lack of sound was deafening. It dulled his senses and muddled his thoughts as he subconsciously searched for the ambient noises that were so naturally a part of existence. But there were none. Kormac was all too aware that here, in the desolate countryside, he was alone, even the sun withholding its blessings as the clouds worked tirelessly to keep it so.

As he walked, his paranoia only grew, his mind inventing things where there were none in an effort to create normalcy. Already he had faltered three times, stopping to fight invisible "enemies." Only the gentle clinking of his armor from within his satchel kept his sanity intact, reminding of his divine quest and reason for being. Even in the dead of winter, he'd decided against adorning the trusty metal suit that had come to be part of his daily attire. It had saved his life on many occasions, but as protective as it was, its mobility was low and only served to impede him as he rushed toward his destination. Plus, he preferred not to announce his arrival to every foe within earshot of him; his armor had the tendency to do that.

So, Kormac had resolved to don lighter armor, those that allowed their wearers to bound freely, the type more reasonable for traveling. Absently, he rubbed his chest, expecting the smooth coldness of his chest plate, but instead finding the rough corners of a leather jerkin, feeling all too vulnerable. He shook his head, casting aside those thoughts. They mattered naught when humanity's fate hung on a single thread, woven by the Angel of Death. His sword and his shield would protect him. Those were sufficient.

"Kormac! Wait for me!"

Kormac whirled around, drawing his sword and raising his shield when he heard the voice call out to him. It was Eirena's, but that was impossible. She was still in Caldeum caring for the orphans, the ones she called her children, having refused his request. Kormac furrowed his brows in frustration at the thought. He had left without much argument, but still, the outcome of that discussion still dissatisfied him. Eirena should be aiding him, fighting alongside him as his partner. But here she was not. The voice that called to him now was an imposter. There was no way she would be here, on the outskirts of Westmarch.

The thunderous sound of a galloping horse was soon upon the Templar as he readied himself. If the imposter tried to attack him, fool him at all, he would grant them a swift release into the afterlife.

"Kormac, I'm here!" Eirena halted her steed to stand before the Templar. "Asheara, she convinced me to come and—" Eirena stopped, finding a sword at her throat.

"Speak, demon. Why have you followed me and taken this form? Thought you could trick me, could you? Take the face of the woman I love in order to fool me? Well you did not! Speak!" he ordered.

Eirena blushed at Kormac's admission before realizing the predicament she was in. He thought her a shape-shifting demon, and unless she could convince him otherwise, would soon become part of the road. "It's me Kormac, Eirena." She raised her hands, dropping the reigns of her mount to show that she held no weapon.

"If you really are her, who I doubt you are, then tell me something only Eirena would know!"

Her mind raced as she struggled to recall something only known between them, all too aware of his sword's proximity to her neck. In her haste, Eirena said the first thing that came to mind.

"One time when we were in the Caverns of Arreat just past the Keeps of Depth, you sheathed your sword too quickly and cut your own belt. Your belt and uh," Eirena fumbled, raising one hand to cover her blush as she recalled the event, "your trousers fell away. You were wearing crimson undergarments."

Kormac stepped back, aghast, nearly falling as he tripped over a large rock. His face was as deep a crimson as his underwear had been that day. "You were to never speak of that event!"

Eirena could not help but laugh when Kormac rapidly sheathed his sword and dropped his shield, burying his face in his hands in humiliation.

"I'm sorry," Eirena said, not sorry at all. "You forced me to."

This seemed to turn Kormac's embarrassment into annoyance. "Why are you here and how did you catch up to me?" he snapped.

"I'm here to help," Eirena stated simply. "As for how I caught up, well…" She patted her trusty mount, noticing the way Kormac's eyes twitched with frustration and envy when her gelding whickered softly. "You can ride with me if you'd like," she offered.

Kormac begrudgingly agreed, slinging his sword and pack over the mount before grabbing the hand Eirena extended to hoist himself atop the dappled beast, sliding into the saddle just behind the woman. Her back was quite warm. Feebly, he attempted to distance his pelvis away from the Enchantress, for fear that she would become aware of his growing problem, but the saddle would have none of it, instead preferring to force the Templar to grind up against her.

He bit the inside of his cheek and sucked in a breath, hoping to ignore the scent of Eirena's honey-colored hair, but only succeeded in inhaling in more of its strawberry colored scent. "My faith is my shield," he muttered to himself, "my faith is my shield, my faith is my shield, my faith is my shield."

"Kormac?"

"Yes?"

"Your sword is stabbing into my back. Can you move it?"

"…Y-Yes."


	5. Dissension

Westmarch was only a fragment of the nation he remembered; if not for the same landmarks, Kormac would have thought it a different country altogether. Granted, the last time he had set foot in the realm was five years past, when the Order had sent him on a mission to gather more "sinners," so they might atone for their deeds by joining the Templars—a lie Kormac knew, for he had been one of those forcefully enlisted—so naturally things would have changed with time, but he could hardly call this place home now.

The capital had been dreary before, when the then-King had shirked his duties leading to the steady decline of the nation, but the overwhelming sense of dread that enveloped the place now was something different altogether. There was the sound of perpetual wailing, a mix of noise from the cries of those mourning and the screeching of the Death Maidens, pining for souls just outside the city. Kormac and Eirena had the pleasure of encountering one of those on their way to this place. Tyrael, with the help of the nephalem and a few others, had managed to place a seal around the inner city, a place they deemed the "Survivor's Enclave."

This was where they convened now. It had taken almost a full day to journey from the outskirts of Westmarch, where he'd picked up his traveling companion, to get to the enclave. The closer they got to their destination, the more the road had begun to twist, turning so that the true path was shrouded by illusion, leading the duo to wander aimlessly amid the once-live groves surrounding the capital.

Doubtless, they would still be lost, had they not had the prodigious luck of running into a guide, one they later learned was the only surviving member of the new Horadrim, Lorath Nahr. He had encountered them just as they stepped into the way of a Soul Reaper, a Death Maiden, and had warded it off, but not without sacrifice.

The remainder of the trip was spent on foot; Eirena's gelding Peachblossom had faltered. Kormac glanced up to peer at the sorceress seated across from him, her visage flickering through the heat of the flame that burned between them. Her head was tilted slightly with hands clasped and nestled deeply between her thighs.

Kormac watched intently, the way her almond-shaped eyes were turned downward, mirroring the faint frown on her cherry lips. She was clearly struggling to deal with the loss of her beloved mount, a sweet thin gifted to her by Asheara during the months he had been absent. Eirena had meant to leave it for the boys, Uzziel and Zadok, when she returned. That much she had told him when they shared a saddle.

Now the horse was gone, but Kormac could hardly understand Eirena's lingering sadness. He lost mounts all the time! What was the use of being so distraught and morose over the death of a single horse? Still, it bothered him to see her like this, so he resolved to lift her spirits in the only way he knew how. Moving closer to the Enchantress, Kormac laid a hand gingerly on her shoulder. Eirena made no effort to move.

"Cheer up Eirena, tis only a horse. I'll buy you another one when this is over!"

Normally, Kormac was quite tight with his purse, only opening it to buy absolute necessities. One time, he had gone a whole month without socks. For Eirena, he was willing to allot a few exceptions. He flashed her a most genuine grin, hoping the offer would return to the woman her usual spirits. The way Eirena turned to him, eyes filled with disgust, lips bent in a scowl was not reassuring.

Confused, Kormac withdrew his touch. Perhaps the offer was not enough. The horse had been something of more sentimental value after all. "Two horses! I'll buy you two…" Eirena's expression only soured as Kormac stammered on, "Two war steeds fit for the best of fighters! I'll even train them myself!" He was waving his hand enthusiastically now, in a way that, from an outsider's perspective, could have been mistaken for begging. The sorceress said naught a word, but glowered at the warrior poisonously.

"Upsetting the women now are we?" a new voice drawled from behind the two of them, "That won't do."

Kormac made no effort to face this new voice for he knew all too well who the owner was, and such a man deserved no respect.

"Lyndon!" Eirena enumerated, standing to face the Scoundrel. "It's been so long since we met. How have you been?" Any traces of sorrow were faded from the maiden's youthful face as she clasped hands with the thief in a most congenial manner.

Lyndon automatically raised her delicate fingers to his lips for a brief touch, causing the woman to flush. "I've been wonderful! Work is work, and I'm ever so close to buying my very own _mansion_." The last word seemed directed at the hulk seated before him, who shifted ever so slightly. Lyndon smirked.

The man in front of him had said nary a word, not even bothering to turn around, but Lyndon could see the way Kormac's jaw clenched when Eirena had stood to greet the rogue. It was terribly fun to tease the Templar. "How about I invite you, my dear, to join me in my mansion then. Hmm?"

Lyndon slipped a casual hand around the waist of the petite Enchantress, causing her to yelp with surprise, although she made no effort to pull away. It did, however, cause another individual to rise, seething as he towered over the Scoundrel.

"Unhand her, you miscreant!"

"Kormac! I'm perfectly capable of defending myself," Eirena protested, but was promptly ignored.

"You're corrupting the pure with your ways."

Lyndon scoffed, unfazed despite the man who stood half a head above him. The Templar wouldn't dare lay a hand on him and he knew it. It wasn't too often one got to mess with someone so uptight. Quirking an eyebrow at Kormac, Lyndon gasped, feigning surprise. "Oh my, Kormac, old friend! I did _not_ see you there. How long have you been in town?"

"Don't lie, Scoundrel," Kormac growled, inches from the rogue's face. "You knew I was here all along."

"Surely you jest!" Lyndon contested, waving his free hand in mock innocence. "I assure you I simply thought some _miscreant_ was pestering this beautiful flower and sought only to rescue her. Who would have thought it was you!"

Kormac's jaw quivered at the insult, the grinding of tooth on tooth almost audible. For a brief moment, the duty-bound considered clocking this incorrigible lout above the head, but greater judgment prevailed. His eyes darted to Eirena, who beheld a most curious expression, one of uncertainty and… fear?

Before Kormac could ponder and further, a familiar figure sauntered into view. The presence of this individual caused Lyndon to promptly release Eirena, who busied herself adjusting her skirts. Kormac immediately stood down.

"My friends." The nephalem nodded slightly at the trio. "I trust you have all had a safe journey."

Without skipping a beat, the hero briefed the group before issuing specific orders for each follower, instructing them to prepare for the quest at hand. Despite their age, the last of the nephalem was a capable leader and revered by all. This was the person who had led them to conquer Diablo, after all, something even Tyrael and Inarius had failed to do. This was a person who they could trust with their lives.

Already the nephalem had made much progress, destroying a fair number of Death Maidens among the Westmarch Commons with the help of Lyndon. Their next task would pit them against Malthael's most loyal retainer, Urzael, the Harbinger of Death.

"We will adjourn tomorrow at first light. Meet in front of the gates and do not dither." The nephalem dismissed the group, leaving each to attend to their own matters.

Wordlessly, Eirena strutted away as if in search of something. This left the two men alone.

"Well then, I do believe I'll become more acquainted with the town," Lyndon announced. "See you in the morning, and make sure you put out the fire when you're done, alright pal?" He gave his stone-faced companion a wink and was off.

Resignedly, Kormac paced around the fire pit, alone once again. Perhaps it was a mistake to invite Eirena. What a mess this was becoming.

"All those who wish for salvation, give thee to our savior Malthael! Our time is upon us!" Kormac stopped in his tracks, searching for the source of the proclamation. "To the great one Malthael, may all praise be! Let us shun the nonbelievers!"

Looking around, Kormac found the source; some distance away, a disgruntled looking priest stood atop what appeared to be a milking stool, spewing nonsense to a large crowd.

"Oh Malthael! Save us!" shrieked a woman from amid the group.

Slanting his eyes, Kormac approached the commotion.

"The rapture is upon us! Let us give ourselves willingly to Malthael and be saved!" the priest shouted to the receptive crowd.

The Templar was standing near the crowd now, close enough that he had become part of the group.

"Is there really nothing to be done?" people murmured around him.

"The end is coming! Who will save us?"

"Isn't Tyrael working with Malthael? Why is this happening?"

As if sensing the uncertainty among the crowd, the priest shouted yet another proclamation. "Do not be fooled by the lies of others! Our one and only savior is Malthael! Believe in him and be saved!"

Kormac could hardly believe his ears. This priest was blaspheming, leading the people of Survivor's Enclave to willingly embrace death, surrendering their souls to Malthael! Not only that, it seemed these people seemed unaware that there might be hope, that Malthael could be stopped and their lives saved. In fact, it appeared these people were unaware that their end was due to Malthael himself, and that the Angel of Death was hardly a savior. He looked around, alarmed to find the crowd growing steadily around him. These people, they had yet to see the light!

"He lies!" Kormac hollered, amid the crowd. "This priest is nothing but a fool and a liar! He seeks to lead you to your deaths!"

The crowd turned Kormac now, their attention on the Templar. "Malthael is not your savior! He is the Angel of Death and he seeks to end humanity!"

Voices began to grumble from within the group, some agreeing with Kormac, others with the priest.

"Do not listen to him!" the priest screamed, pointing gnarled finger at the Templar. "He is one of them! A demon! He's come to infect your minds, to turn you astray. Fear not for Malthael will save us!"

A large ring formed around Kormac now, paranoia apparent in the eyes of the people around him, eyes that knew the terror that demons wrought in their wake.

"I am not a demon!" Kormac countered, "I am of the Brotherhood, one of the Templar's Order and a bringer of light!"

The crowd rustled uncomfortably. "Templar's Order?" a woman shouted, "They took my son! He did nothing wrong!"

"Mine too!" another cried.

Startled, by the outcries, Kormac made to back away, only to find himself surrounded.

"The Templar's Order is filled with demons!" the priest screeched, "Your sons have been stolen by the demons! He's a demon! Expel him!"

The situation was dangerous now; Kormac readied himself for a skirmish as the panic of the crowd turned to anger toward the Templar. He could defend himself against a few, but against a group of thirty, he wasn't sure if he could get out without injuring any.

"Give me my son back!" a man cried.

"Enough!" There was a resounding clang of metal upon metal, the sound loud enough to cause everyone within earshot to pause. The noise came twenty paces away, from the blacksmith's area, where stood a thoroughly annoyed Haedrig Eamon. "Kormac is a good man and not a demon. Demons cannot enter the enclave." Haedrig shook his hammer toward the crowd, causing a few members to step back, despite the blacksmith's distance from them. "Take yer squabbling elsewhere, especially you, priest."

To Kormac's surprise, the crowd slowly dispersed, leaving the priest to stand shakily on his makeshift pedestal.

"How did you do that?" Kormac directed at Haedrig.

The blacksmith shrugged, flipping a hammer high in the air, catching it nonchalantly, "They just know me, I s'pose."

Kormac made a mental note never to stand within throwing distance of the blacksmith's hammer.

Elsewhere, Eirena wandered into view of a large flamboyant wagon of violet and scarlet, strewn with silks and adorned amply with trinkets of gold and silver. The door of said wagon opened outward to reveal a set of steps, at the bottom of which stood a woman of copious proportions, although short in stature. The marks of time were evident in the woman's face, gentle indicators left by her eyes as she smiled. Something had been calling to Eirena ever since she'd entered the Survivor's Enclave, and now she had found it.

"Hello my child, what brings you to Myriam?" the woman spoke.

"Are you the one who called me?" Eirena started, hesitantly.

The older woman chuckled in reply. "Come my child," Myriam entered the wagon, gesturing for Eirena to follow. "There is much to discuss."

Obediently, Eirena followed the mystic, who closed the door behind them, before settling on one of the many cushions that littered the inside of the wagon. Eirena followed suit.

"Now, child. Let us talk. I am Myriam Jahzia of the Vecin. My people are travelers with the gift of prophecy. That is why you have come to me, is it not?"

"Oh no," Eirena replied, "I just had a feeling, one that called me here."

"Ah my child, but you see, you are Vizjerei, the ancestors of my people, no? Perhaps that is why you were called here to me."

The Enchantress gaped, eyes wide with disbelief as the mystic continued. "You seem confused! I must have startled you, my apologies." Myriam laid a comforting hand on Eirena's. "I have foretold your coming, dear Eirena."

"That is how you know who I am? Then you have seen the future! Will we triumph? Or will humanity perish? What will become of everyone?"

"Now, now my dear, I cannot choose that which is foretold. The Sight comes to me in dream, but only in fragments." Myriam's tone had changed abruptly, her face grave, her voice low. "But for you, my dear, I have one warning. You will suffer a great loss, but with it, gain great revelation."

"Me?" Eirena stammered in shock, "Then can I—what must I do? What is this loss? Is there any way to prevent the outcome?"

It was no use inquiring, however. The mystic had returned to her previous demeanor and was bent on ushering the Enchantress out as if nothing had happened. "That is all, my dear. Good luck!"

Myriam all but pushed Eirena out the door, slamming it in the maiden's face. Eirena tripped down the stairs, thoroughly perplexed as she struggled to come to terms with what had just occurred. What a strange woman.

From the inside of the wagon, Myriam watched and breathed a sigh of relief when the sorceress left without pursuing the matter further. Divination was dangerous and never certain, for there were multiple paths for the future to take. Sometimes, by voicing what she had seen, Myriam could force the paths to align into a certain outcome, but even then, there was a risk. She hoped her words would reach the Enchantress; the future depended on it.

The rest of the day was relatively uneventful, spent by all members of the entourage as they prepared for the inevitable battle the next morning. For Kormac, who spent the majority of the night tossing in agitation, daybreak took far too long to arrive. Sleep eluded the warrior as his mind ran amok, needlessly exploring the endless possibilities of his inner dialogues with thoughts that chased away all notions of rest. When the cock finally crowed, Kormac stumbled, bleary-eyed to his feet.

Grabbing his essentials, the Templar forsook his morning ritual and headed for the group's predetermined meeting point. He was as awake as he was going to be and he needed to make haste so as to be on time. The Templar walked briskly to the gate. In truth, Kormac's actions were expedient only in his mind; many in the Survivor's Enclave later noted the strange disheveled man who could have woken the dead with his needless clanking, clumsily stumbling about for what seemed to be eons, dropping this and that before stumbling awkwardly away.

"Kormac!" Eirena cried, when the Templar eventually trudged to the gate.

Everyone had already been waiting patiently for the one who was usually the timeliest of them all. Kormac stopped, tilting his head in confusion. He was sure he would be the first to arrive, yet it seemed as if his companions had been waiting…

"You look horrid! What happened?" Eirena rushed to his side, placing two hands on his cheeks as if to survey the damage. His face was gaunt, a sickly shade of grey, and his bloodshot eyes seemed uneasy, focusing on something far beyond Eirena.

"Nothing of any importance, Kormac responded, brushing the sorceress off. "Now what's the plan?"


End file.
